


The Assignment

by empounce



Category: The Equalizer (2014)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Romance, Russian Mafia, assassin!reader, killer!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:18:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8343178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empounce/pseuds/empounce
Summary: You are a budding assassin working on contract mostly for a Russian mobster named Vladimir Pushkin, but when you are assigned to work with Teddy, his right-hand man, your whole world changes.





	1. Teddy

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few short drabbles, some of which include Teddy, but I decided to change up what I already had just a little in order to make it a full story! If you've read my drabbles on Teddy the first two chapters will be similar, but somewhat changed, and everything that follows is completely new.

**Teddy POV:**  

The black SUV pulls up to a Boston Sand and Gravel Co. site where a small metal building serves as what I’m assuming is the lowly office for some Irish thugs, along with their head, a Mr. John Looney. Frank Masters brings the vehicle to a stop; I’m not sure why Pushkin recruited this particular member of Boston P.D. as he has proven himself mostly useful only as a chauffeur. 

“Listen, Teddy.” His Boston accent irritates me. “The Irish are clean on this one. They had nothing to do with it huh? Come on. What are you gonna do? You gonna sit down with all these guys? I’m telling you-“ 

“Yes.” I cut him off, hoping to stop him from speaking further. “I understand; duly noted.” 

Stepping out of the vehicle, I feel my phone buzz in my jacket pocket: Pushkin. I reluctantly answer, pressing the phone to my ear as his voice drones on about wanting the matter resolved quickly. “Yes Mr. Pushkin. I am meeting with our Irish associates now.” 

“Good.” He sounds somewhat pleased, although his impatience is notorious. “I’ve sent someone along to speed this process. Make things easier since the locals seem to be lacking certain…skill sets.” 

The thought of having a partner to work with annoys me greatly, but I have to admit that the locals on Pushkin’s payroll seem to be falling quite short in expectations. “I’ve noticed this myself.” 

Masters fidgets slightly, adjusting his hat and glancing around the grounds as my gaze falls on him. He furrows his brows, and points past me, directing my attention to an approaching SUV. 

Pushkin’s voice in my ear reminds me of our conversation. “It’s a new employee I’ve hired, new around but quite skilled. They should be finding you soon.” 

“I believe they just arrived.” I end the call, and move towards the vehicle as it comes to a stop. 

A rather large man in an expensive suit steps out, his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses, and a rather tall woman made taller by her 6 inch heels, donning an equally expensive but form-fitting suit. Masters is instantly distracted by the woman, while my attention is soon back on the large gentleman to whom I fake a rather convincing smile and introduce myself. “I believe you are my new associate?” 

The man laughs, a deep gravel-like sound, but I keep the smile plastered on my face, not quite sure what to expect from him just yet. He turns to move back to the SUV, but Masters finally breaks his trance from the seemingly oblivious woman to call after him, “Where are you going?” 

The man turns back to face us as he opens the driver side door, wiping a tear from his eye as his laughing finally subsides. “Trust me, gentleman, she’s the one you want helping you.” With that, he slides back into the SUV and pulls away, leaving just Masters, the woman, and myself. 

  

**Your POV:**  

They both looked shocked, the local more so than the controlled Russian beside him which you assume, by Pushkin’s description, to be Teddy. You watch as Blake pulls away, and then turn your attention towards the metal building, ignoring the all too familiar stares of these men who are no doubt still underestimating you to this moment; it’s nothing new, and even works to your advantage at times. You nod towards the building, “Classic Irish thugs?” 

The local man, Boston P.D. by his badge, shifts his cap. “I don’t understand what-“ 

You sigh and squeeze the bridge of your nose. “Just stay out of the way.” 

He nods slowly, and you shake your head as you pop open the top few buttons of your shirt before moving towards the building. The cop jogs after you to catch up, “Listen huh? Do me a favor, alright? Whatever you do, don’t call him “Little John” okay?” 

You purse your lips, pausing just before the door to allow Teddy in first, knowing this cop just planted a seed with that ‘Little John’ comment. 

Teddy takes the single seat across the desk from John Looney, leaving you, the cop, and two of Looney’s armed men to stand at the edges of the room. 

John plays with a rubber band, twirling it between his two index fingers, perhaps a nervous tick? “Frank.” He directs his attention to the cop, so that’s his name? “Why you working for these fucking Russians? My money not good enough?” 

Frank speaks from the doorway, seeming calm as though this Irishman’s bark is known to be worse than his bite. “John, you know I got respect for your business-“ 

Teddy, patiently sitting in his seat, seems tired with the formalities. “Mr. Looney. You understand why I’m compelled to make this visit?” 

John drops his hands to the desk, leaning forward to direct his statements directly at Teddy. “I don’t know shit about what went down or who you should be out looking for. If I wanna take over anything, I’d fucking do it. There’d be nothing left to you people. So maybe you just don’t understand who the fuck I am.” 

Frank sighs. “John… Easy, huh?” 

“Don’t ‘easy’ Frank. Shut the fuck up! Fucking flipperhead…” He shakes his head, cheeks slightly red from anger as he continues his rant directed at a seemingly amused Teddy. “See, I hate you fucking Russians. You’re all crazy and you’re arrogant. Now, the Irish, we came here for a piece of the American dream. You people came over here to steal it, so fuck all of you.” 

“Well, Mr. Looney, I appreciate your candor. It’s…it’s refreshing, and lets me understand that you’re not smart enough to have done this.” 

“What the fuck?” John is obviously shocked, but Teddy continues. 

“Which brings me to my next issue.” He stands, grabbing a pen from John’s desk and the two other men shift uncomfortably as he moves towards a map on the wall, drawing a rough circle around the local area. “We pay you 15 percent to do business here. The additional 10 percent you steal, we ignore. We anticipate it, as you people are such clichés. And the fact that you’re a rat to the Feds is also tolerable, Little John.” 

Another “What the fuck?!” escapes John’s lips as Frank sighs. 

It was his own fault really, for planting that tid-bit of information in Teddy’s brain in the first place. Fidgeting with your jacket, you catch the admiring glances of John’s two goons, distracting them slightly as Teddy continues. 

“What we will not tolerate is getting nothing for our money,” He pounds his closed fist lightly against the map to accentuate his point. “No information, no protection, no assurances. You understand,  **Little Johnny**?” It’s pretty obvious the enjoyment he gains from using the name, the torture it causes leaving a genuine smile on his face. 

John is bewildered, his jaw hanging loose as he stumbles for words. “Who do you think you are coming down here-“ 

Teddy interrupts, raising his voice and sending light chills down your spine. “Who I am, or what I am? Who I am is complicated, what I am is…easier. I’m a threat. I…alter outcomes.” 

You glance between the two goons, slowly unbuttoning the single clasp of your jacket, letting it hang loose. One of them smirks, clearly believing it to be some flirtation attempt on your part. 

John is furious, understandably, and motions to his goons, whom both currently have their eyes glued to you. “Throw this motherf-“ 

Teddy quickly hits him in the head with an ashtray he’d grabbed from beneath the desk. Taking advantage of the distraction you built since entering the room, you whip out a handgun previously concealed by your jacket and shoot one of the goons before he has a chance to raise his weapon. Kneeling quickly you take out the second man before turning back to check Teddy's progress with Mr. John Looney. As you stand, you notice Frank is frozen in the doorway, watching, horrified as Teddy continues to beat John within an inch of his life. 

You quirk a brow, although you would deny it to anyone else, you can at least admit to yourself that watching Teddy excited you. He gives John another good kick before turning to glance around the room, a wicked smile touching his lips briefly as he straightens his jacket. Stepping over the bodies, he calmly leaves the room. You touch Frank's shoulder gently, meeting his eyes for a moment, and then follow after Teddy. 

Seconds later Frank jogs out after both of you. “Hey! Hey.” He comes to stand before Teddy, who is nonchalantly inspecting the damage done to his knuckles as if ignoring every word. “This is my town. Do you understand me? This is my home. You cannot just run around like a fucking wild animal. What the fuck was that?” 

“It’s a message. It says “I’m here.”” He smiles, and dons his sunglasses before returning to the SUV. 

Frank turns to you, but you simply shrug and slide in the other side of the SUV, leaving him to stand alone. Shutting the door behind you, you glance over to Teddy. “He seems a bit green for this job.” He turns his attention to you, dragging his eyes along every inch of your figure before finally meeting your narrowed eyes. “I know I’m not what you expected, and I’m not too fond of having a partner either. But I'm here to work for Pushkin, same as you. I’m just here to do my job and get paid.” You turn to look out the window, seeing that Frank was finally making his way back towards the SUV, although his cap was pulled down and his head low. 

“It was…impressive…in there.” You turn back to face him, but his attention is still out the window. 

Stubborn seems to run deep with these Russians. Glancing down, you reach for his hand, finally drawing his attention, his eyes following your every move as he allows you to inspect his bloodied and torn knuckles. You feel along the length of his hand, then his wrist, searching for any injury beneath the surface, and look up momentarily to catch his eyes staring back into yours. 

The driver door opens, and Frank climbs inside just as he’s hanging up the phone. You let go of Teddy’s hand, satisfied there was no major damage and watch Frank hesitantly turning to face the two of you. “Pushkin wants her to stay with you.”


	2. Sleeping Situation

You kick off your heels, letting out a sigh as even the hardwood floor feels like the softest cloud-like material after a day of wearing platform stilettos. A few of Teddy's little helpers, local lapdogs on Pushkin's payroll, bring in your luggage and waste no time in scurrying right back out the door to leave you and Teddy alone. 

He purses his lips, studying you a little closer as you collect one of your bags and pad into the living room area. Taking a seat, you pull out a file and spread its contents on the table before you, motioning for Teddy to take the chair next to you.  

He obliges, keeping his stoic poker-face expression as he studies the photos. "Where did you get these?"  

"Does it really matter where I got them?" You feel his eyes on you, but ignore him in favor of reviewing the photos. "We both work for Pushkin; we both have access to his resources. You're not as special as you may think Teddy."  

You chance a glance in his direction and notice the edge of his lips turned up in amusement. 

"This one." You push a single photo towards him, your fingers brushing briefly as he reaches to pull the photo closer. "This man entered but never came back out."  

He pulls a phone from his pocket, dialing Pushkin and putting him on speaker. From the little time you've spent with him, you can tell Teddy likes to take the lead, so you let him. Grabbing your bag, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, deciding a long hot shower is exactly what you need after the number that long plane ride did on your back.  

The water eases some of the tension in your muscles, allowing you to relax your shoulders and forget about the case, if only for a few minutes. The sound of Teddy's voice pulls you back to reality. Sighing, you step out and grab a towel, ruffling it through your hair as you attempt to listen in on the phone call. He's speaking a mix of English and Russian, but your Russian is...rusty...to say the least, so you only catch bits and pieces of the conversation. All you can tell is that he's speaking to Pushkin about the case, when you suddenly hear your name thrown in.  

You dress quickly, throwing on a loose fitting shirt and a pair of shorts; you had been dressed up long enough today, it was time to relax in more casual attire. You pad barefoot back to the living room, still running a towel through your hair as you round the corner to see Teddy. He doesn't notice, but your gait falters slightly at the sight of his exposed tattoos. Most Russians in this line of work have them, of course, so you assumed he would as well, but you never expected to enjoy the view so much.  

He drags his finger lazily across the screen of his phone, hanging up on Pushkin and returning his full attention to the photos still strewn about the table. Finally ripping your eyes away, you move to the kitchen, rummaging through each cabinet until you finally find what you're looking for. Sighing, you glare up at the teacups through narrowed eyes. Being tall meant it was rare that you were unable to reach things, and you hate the brief vulnerability it causes you to feel. Using the countertop for support, you hike one leg up on the counter, and ignore the feel of your shirt hiking up as you attempt to reach one of the teacups ridiculously perched on the very top shelf. 

A sudden heat at your back startles you, causing you to drop both feet back to the floor and spin around. Teddy breathes a small chuckle as you nearly bump into his bare chest, and moves closer, placing a hand on the counter at either side of you. He leans in, allowing you to study his tattoos closer. You meet his gaze as he reaches an arm up and behind you, forcing him closer. Without breaking eye contact, he bring his hand back down, offering the teacup to you. 

"Thanks." You mumble, wishing you could break away, but not having the will power to do so.  

"You're welcome." He turns, giving you full view of his tattoo covered back as he returns to his seat in the living room.  

You regain your composure long enough to put the tea on, and move back around the corner, resisting the urge to look in his direction as you grab your bags and pad down the hall. Keeping an ear open for the tea, you twist the handle and push the door open with your hip, surveying the room as you drop the bags with a sigh. "Shit..." 

A sudden whistle sounds from the kitchen, and you quickly pad back towards it. Turning off the heat and carefully filling your cup, you bring it with you to the living room. Teddy glances up briefly, watching you cross your legs as you take your seat on the couch. You blow on your tea, avoiding acknowledging him as his eyes linger on your thigh tattoo peeking out beneath the edge of your shorts.  

He turns his attention back to his computer; the absence of his gaze allowing you to relax. "So." You finally speak up, leaning forward to set your cup on the table to cool. "About this sleeping situation."  

He shuts the computer, "Yes. I thought you would bring that up."  

"It's a large enough bed." You watch as he quirks a brow in a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Until we make other arrangements, of course."  

The edge of his lips twitch. "You are sure?"  

You shrug. "I think I can keep my hands to myself for one night."  

He chuckles softly, a genuine smile reaching his eyes. "Is that so?"  

You reach for your tea as you stand, taking it with you as you move towards the bedroom. "Got you to laugh didn't it?"  

 


	3. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter but I have an idea of where I want this story to go now!

You dream of the man in the photograph; you're chasing him, but his face is always just out of view. He slows in the street suddenly, causing you to slow your own pace as you hesitantly approach. Everything is empty, all of the people gone aside from you and the man now standing rigid just ahead. You reach out, hand trembling lightly as you move to grasp the man's shoulder and reveal his face. Your fingertips graze against the fabric of his shirt, but something doesn't seem right. A sick feeling grows in your stomach and your heart begins to pound frantically inside your chest, a sudden desperation washing over you as you grip his shoulder firmly. Your throat tightens, and desperation turns to a sense of dread; this man is familiar. Your breath hitches as you push his shoulder, turning him to reveal a face void of all features. 

He's a mannequin? 

You hear your father's muffled voice calling you, but as you glance around to search for him, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Or rather, the 6 year old you in your red Christmas sweater. Your father finds you, the worry in his face being soothed over by relief. 

"Where have you been?" He breathes, obviously having just run around the entire mall looking for you. 

This was the day you found out you had been adopted and tried to run away, but you never made it outside the mall. It was apparent to everyone that you were adopted, after all, your parents were black, and you weren't, but that didn't make the news hurt any less. Tears well in your eyes, and he kneels to your level to wipe them away. 

"You know I love you, I always will." He pulls you in for a hug and strokes your hair. "Even with what you've become..." 

You wake with a start, heart still pounding as you try to remember the details of the dream before they slip away completely. It's all a blur, but you remember something about your dad and know that you need to see him. 

When you step out into the living room you see Teddy, fast asleep in the chair with papers still laid out on the table in front of him. What a gentleman he must be to have left you the room all to yourself. Your lips curve slightly into a brief smile, his features seeming so soft and harmless while he's sleeping -  which you are sure is a rare state to catch him in. A look to the clock tells you it's only 4 in the morning. You quietly slide a cover over him and leave a note that you have a few errands to run. 


	4. Daddy Issues

Your father had retired ages ago, before he and your mother had decided to adopt you, but the last time you spoke with him he had picked up a simple job to stay busy. He was never the type so sit idle, especially since you had lost your mother. 

Finding him wasn’t too difficult, but gathering the courage to face him is what took real effort. You haven't seen each other in years, and he still didn't know what you really did for a living. As far as he was aware, you found a regular 9 to 5 job. 

Saying that you're scared to face him would be the understatement of the century. He would be able to tell just by looking at you what your life had really become, and you aren't so sure you're ready for that yet. You contemplate backing out; you could just turn around and pretend you never came, no one would ever have to know you were here or who you are. Chewing at your lip, you begin pacing back and forth near the entrance, happy you decided to dress casual in converse for once. Before you can bail, the decision is made for you, the door suddenly opens and you are face-to-face with your father. 

He stops in his tracks, clearly not expecting to see you. "Hey dad..." 

He seems happy at first, and moves to hug you, but as his arms wrap around you there's already a change in his demeanor. A knowing sigh passes his lips as his shoulders slump slightly. He steps back and keeps his hands on your shoulders, examining you at an arm's length with a half smile. "How have you been sweetheart?" 

"I've been good, just keeping busy with the 'ole 9 to 5." You muster a chuckle, and he nods knowingly. "We've never been able to hold a poker face with each other..." 

Glancing around, he motions for you to follow him into the store. It's before hours, so there are only a few employees, none of which take a second glance when the two of you lock yourselves in one of the offices. 

Each taking a seat opposite each other, you reach across to hold his hand. "I've wanted to come see you, I just didn't know how." 

Sighing, he studies your hand, tracing circles on the back of it with his thumb. "I thought we agreed you would go into a different field. I got out of that line of work for a reason." 

His voice isn't stern necessarily, but you feel the pang in your chest regardless. "I'm a private contractor dad, it's different than the government. I can-" 

"It's worse is what it is." His eyes meet yours, but they immediately soften. "I'm glad to see you... but are you in some kind of trouble?" 

"I'm honestly not sure." Pursing your lips you lean forward, elbows resting on the small table between you. "I'm working a case for an employer, I've worked several jobs for him but I've never had a partner unless I brought someone in myself." You shake your head and lower your voice. "This one is different, they have me working with one of their own. Not another contractor, but someone from inside; someone high up." 

He furrows his brow as if mulling something over; there's something he's not telling you. "This case, can you tell me anything about it? Or the people you're working for?" 

"Dad, you know I-" 

"Anything?" He seems more desperate, gripping both of your hands now, his eyes almost pleading. 

"They're Russian." You whisper, feeling somewhat like a traitor spilling any kind of information, even if it's just to your father. "Basically new age mafia. My employer... he runs everything. Name it and he has his hands in it: weapons, drugs, trafficking; he even has a call-girl service set up with-" 

His eyes widen slightly at the mention of the call-girl service, causing you to trail off mid-sentence. "Are they Russian girls?" 

"Yeah." You shrug, somewhat avoiding his gaze. Knowing your employer is a shady character is one thing, but telling your father about said employer is a whole new level. "Some are brought over really young though, so sometimes they don't even have an accent." 

He studies your features, his lips pursed into a thin line as if he's struggling with an internal debate. 

Something clicks, and a sudden awareness washes over you as you lean back in your chair. "It's you isn't it? You're the one they have me hunting down." 

A single curt nod is the only answer you get. 

"Dad..." You lean back in across the table, whispering once more. "This guy they have me working with, he's serious. I can throw him off your trail but not for long. You need to leave town, possibly even leave the country." 

"What's his name?" 

"I'm not kidding dad, go home and pack your things. Get rid of anything tying you to that girl." You pull out some cash, attempting to force it into his hand. "They can't track this, just take it and get on the next flight out." 

He refuses the money. "Sweetheart. What is his name?" 

Your eyes threaten to well up, you can feel the sting of tears pricking at the edges. "I can't lose you too. Please." 

"Your old man can take care of himself, you should know that." He strokes your cheek reassuringly, moving a stray hair out of your face. 

"Teddy Rensen..." 


	5. C'est Ci Bon

You ignore Teddy's inquisitive glance as you walk through the apartment, moving straight for the kitchen with several bags of groceries in hand. 

He moves to stand in the doorway, watching as you empty the bags of food onto the counter without saying a word. Only when you pull out a burgundy wine does he seem to shift his gaze. You pour 2 glasses, taking one in your hand while thumbing through your phone. A soft smile tugs at your lips as Emilie-Claire Barlow's French album 'Seule ce soir' begins playing throughout the apartment's speaker system. 

You turn and step towards Teddy, still focusing on your phone as you offer the glass. Glancing up, you see him eyeing you with a quirked brow, hands in his pockets as he leans against the doorframe. 

"La vie est trop courte pour boire du mauvais vin. Hm?" ((Life is too short to drink bad wine)) You take a sip of the wine before offering it to him again. 

He takes the glass in his hand, swirling it just under his nose briefly, a hint of surprise playing across his otherwise rigid features before he takes a sip. 

You move back to the counter, holding up your own glass to Teddy before taking a sip, a gesture he returns before you turn your attention back to the food. 

"I didn’t know you spoke French." He comments from behind you, still holding his post against the door frame as he watches you prepare dinner. 

"Très peu." ((Very little)) You shrug. "Do you like coq au vin?" 

"Oui." He startles you slightly with his proximity, reaching around you to refill his wine glass. 

"Qu'est-ce que je dis en ce moment?" ((What am I saying right now?)) You test somewhat teasingly. 

He pauses, pondering his response with a slow sip before noticing your playful smirk. In a somewhat shocking turn of events, he returns your laughter with his own, a real smile spilling over his rigid facade.

The next half hour is full of laughter, and as the first bottle of wine runs dry you mutter a silent thanks that you had thought ahead to purchase more than one. 

Teddy has taken off his tie and vest, further opting to undo the first few buttons of his shirt and roll up the sleeves. The wine and soft French blue-grass playing in the background seeming to work out his tensions and replace them with flushed cheeks and a genuine sense of humor. 

You waft the warm steam towards your face, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes in pleasure as the savory dish makes your mouth water. Preparing 2 plates, you pad towards the dinner table followed by an extremely eager looking Teddy. 

Taking your seat across the table from him, you wait with a curious patience as he takes the first bite. His brows knit together and shoulders relax while a satisfied smile blossoms across your features. 

Your plates are clean much before either of you move to stand, the conversation and continuous flow of wine distracting from the passing of time. 

It's the repeating songs that finally cause you to glance at your watch. Letting out a soft chuckle you shake your head, grabbing both plates and padding back into the kitchen to place them in the sink. Before you can start cleaning up the mess left, you feel Teddy behind you. 

He mutters something Russian into your ear that you don’t understand, but you turn to face him anyway. He places his hands on your hips, moving closer until you're pinned between him and the counter. He slides one of his hands up to the small of your back, causing you to involuntarily arch into him as the warm wine flushes your cheeks and scatters your thoughts. 

You grip the collar of his shirt, feeling his hands hold you tighter. His lips find yours, soft and unsure at first, the taste of wine still fresh on his lips. A light tug at his collar as you run your other hand up through his hair seems to be all the encouragement he needs as he grips your ass, picking you up. He carries you with ease to the bedroom, laying you softly on the bed, using one hand to hold himself up and the other to trail along the length of your leg. 

He seems to take the hint as you wrap your legs around his waist, and happily obliges in lowering his weight to rest on top of you as his lips find yours again. The kiss is rougher this time, more needy and breathless as you rake your fingers through his hair. 

He rocks his hips against yours, earning a moan from you which seems only to excite him further. His lips move to your neck, coercing more moans and whimpers from you. 

A sudden impatience nags at you, his shirt seeming like way too much clothing to be between you right now. You push at his chest lightly, causing him to draw back, his brows furrowed questioningly. He seems equally surprised and excited as you flip him, pinning him beneath you with his hands above his head. 

Kissing him softly, you run your hands down from his wrists to his chest where you grip his shirt collar. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, letting it slide out slowly as you rock against him lightly, causing him to grip your hips and groan. Getting a better grip on his shirt, you quirk a brow at him. "How much do you like this shirt?" 

"Why?" 

Deciding it's worth any possible outcome, you quickly rip the shirt open, popping the buttons off. 

His pupils blow wide as he flips with you, kissing you roughly and running his hand along your thigh as you wrap both your legs around his waist. 


End file.
